Rafael and the Rookie
by Exira
Summary: The story of how Rafael and Olivia first met.
1. Chapter 1

Rafael stepped carefully around the puddles of brown slush on the sidewalk. He had already stepped in a deep one, and now his left foot was soaking wet and cold. The way his sock rubbed against the back of his heel, he was certain that he'd have a blister before long. He folded his arms tightly across his chest as the wind whipped him and cut through his too-thin jacket. Despite the painful sensation of his heel being rubbed raw with each step, Rafael had to keep walking. The moment he stopped moving, he shivered, so he walked onwards, headed in no real direction. A cold gust of wind blew straight through his jacket so he tightened it around him and tried in vain to block the cold night air. He had been in such a rush to get away from home and his very drunk and angry father, that he forgot his gloves, so he blew on his fingers and pulled his bare, red hands up into his sleeves.

He trudged down the slush-covered sidewalk and glanced up at the dark sky as it began to unleash a slow but steady combination of sleet and small, sharp snowflakes that felt like tiny shards of glass as they blew against his exposed neck.

Rafael sighed. Alex was away at his aunt's for the weekend and Eddie was grounded for fighting, which meant that Rafael had nowhere to go. Briefly, he had considered going to see his abuelita, but he didn't want to disturb her so late at night, and most of all, he didn't want to upset her. He knew that she'd spot the bruise under his eye and he didn't feel like lying to her again. There were far too many lies in his life already, and Rafael didn't want to add another to the list. If he lied and told her he got into a fight she'd worry, and if he told what really happened, she'd be beside herself. She worries too much already, he thought. Besides, if she found out, there was no way that she wouldn't call his mother, which would only create more drama. So, he plodded along the desolate streets of the South Bronx by himself, biding his time and trying to estimate how long it would be before he could finally head home.

The sleet came down heavier and Rafael's stomach began to growl. It had been such a bad day, that it wasn't until that moment that he realized he hadn't eaten since breakfast, and that had only been a quick bowl of cold cereal before school. He shoved his hand into the back pocket of his unintentionally-fashionable saggy jeans (hand me downs from Eddie) and pulled out two dollar bills and a handful of dimes and nickels; enough to buy something to eat. He walked up the street and rounded the corner to the bodega, to buy a snack and to seek a temporary reprieve from the cold.

Rafael wandered through the store, keenly aware of the clerk watching every move he made. Up and down the aisles Rafael walked, holding and re-counting his money; three dollars and 40 cents. He might have enough to buy a drink and _maybe_ a chocolate bar to go with the pizza bagel he had decided upon. Despite the clerk watching him, Rafael took his time selecting his snack. He was finally warming up and he really didn't want to head back outside to the cold sleet that drizzled from the dark skies. He perused the front display of chocolate bars and selected an Oh Henry! and made his way over to the fridge to choose a drink.

"Are you planning on buying something?" the clerk asked, rounding the corner and standing in the aisle in front of Rafael.

"Yeah," Rafael said and slowly turned from the refrigerated drinks.

"What's in your pocket?"

"Nothing. I swear." Rafael tucked the chocolate bar under his chin, shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, and pulled them out. "See?"

"Alright. Hurry it up then."

Rafael nodded and selected a can of Jolt Cola from the fridge and hustled to the counter. It was probably not a good idea to have a cold drink, but he counted on the excess caffeine in the soft drink to give him a needed energy boost. "And a pizza bagel, warmed up, please," he said to the clerk as he put the chocolate bar and drink on the counter.

"You have to pay before I heat it up," the clerk said, frowning as he reached for the bagels under the counter.

Rafael reached into his back pocket and placed the crumpled dollar bills and the one dollar and 40 cents in dimes and nickels onto the counter. His big green eyes watched nervously as the clerk rolled his eyes, and slapped his hand to the counter, annoyed, as he counted the change. Rafael wanted to shrink away and disappear as the lady behind him in line groaned.

"You're short," the clerk said with a sigh. "19 cents."

"Oh, umm…" Rafael searched his pockets again, praying to find the extra money. "Oh, sorry," he said, when he came up empty.

"Listen kid, I've got a line up behind you. Make up your mind. Next!" the clerk shouted to the middle-aged woman behind Rafael, who glared at him as she placed her groceries on the counter.

"Sorry," Rafael mumbled to her as she shoved past him.

"I don't have time for this," the clerk said to the woman. "It's Friday night. The place is busy. Sorry to hold you up," he said as he bagged her groceries.

"Kids!" she said and shook her head.

When the woman cleared her bags from the counter, Rafael stepped forward and lowered his gaze. "I'll leave this," he said, sliding the chocolate bar across the counter. He stared at it longingly for a moment, and raised his eyes to the grumbling clerk.

Rafael sighed and shoved the drink into his jacket pocket. The bagel, wrapped in a paper thin napkin, warmed his hand as he walked towards the door.

"Hey kid!" a voice called.

Rafael turned to see an elderly man with a cane headed in his direction. "You forgot something," he said, raising his cane off the ground and holding the chocolate bar out.

"Oh, umm…no…I decided not to get it," Rafael stammered, too embarrassed to say he couldn't afford it. His face flushed and he shifted his weight off of his sore foot.

"Nonsense," the man said. "A boy should have a candy bar now and then." The man smiled at him and handed him the chocolate bar.

Rafael stared at him, momentarily speechless and slightly puzzled. "Oh...Oh! Thank-you, sir. Thank-you very much." For the first time that day, Rafael smiled.

"You're welcome. You seem like a polite young man," the man said as Rafael held the door for him. "What happened to your eye?"

"Oh, just a fist-fight. Nothing major."

The man smiled. "Ah, yes. I used to get into the odd scrap myself when I was your age. Now you have a nice evening."

"Thank-you! And, you have a nice evening too!" Rafael called after him as the he walked away slowly, with a small bag of groceries in one hand and his cane in the other. Rafael smiled as the man turned back, held his cane in the air, and waved.

The smile on Rafael's face faded as he stepped out from under the awning in front of the store. The sleet was still coming down and he was already cold again. Nervously, he stepped back under the awning, deciding that he would eat his bagel right there, before it got cold and before he got soaked. He turned and took a quick glimpse into the store's window to make sure the clerk didn't see him lingering. Rafael leaned against the building and unwrapped the bagel, his stomach rumbled in anticipation of his first bite.

While he stood there savoring his snack, a police car pulled up in front of the store. Rafael sighed and stood up straight. He stepped away from the door when the two cops walked past him. One of them, an attractive, young brunette nodded and smiled warmly at him. That was new, Rafael thought. Although he had never been in any trouble, the police had never been friendly to him either. He smiled back at her and averted his eyes as her partner, a burly man with blond hair in his 30's cast him a disapproving look.

Rafael turned and watched through the window as the cops walked through the store to the self-serve coffee. All he wanted was to be warm and dry, so he stepped away from the door and hoped that they wouldn't notice him when they came back out. He had nearly finished the bagel when he turned back to the window. Now, they were in line and being waved away by the clerk. They nodded and smiled at the clerk and walked towards the door. He took the last bite of the bagel and quickly turned away, hoping that they would just carry on with their business and ignore him.

"Hey," a gruff voice said as Rafael felt a warm burst of air hit him from the open door.

Rafael pulled his hands into his sleeves and tried his best to appear casual.

"Hey, I'm talking to you."

Rafael turned around. "Oh? Sorry."

"You can't hang out here," the big, burly cop said.

"I'm not…" Rafael said. He pointed to the distance and waved his arm behind him. "I'm going."

"The bodega owner says that you've been hanging around," the cop said as he took a threatening step in Rafael's direction. "He wants you to get moving, and so do I. Now you get going to wherever it is you're going, or else I'll have to ticket you. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

A funny look came across the young, female police officer's face. She squinted her eyes, smiled, and stepped towards Rafael. Confused by her smile, he studied her face for a moment and read her name tag, 'Benson.' He stepped backwards into the cold drizzle and turned away, worried that she saw the bruise under his eye. Not that they'd care, but Rafael didn't need the police asking any questions. And, even if they did ask, he'd never tell them the truth.

"Well, go on. Get a move on then," the male officer ordered.

"Yes, sir," Rafael answered, nodding his head and turning slightly towards him.

"And I don't want to see you hanging around here hassling customers or the owner again."

"Yes, sir." _Hassling customers? Hassling the owner?_ Rafael knew that he hadn't hassled anyone, but he also knew not to talk back to the police. He turned away, pulled out the chocolate bar from his pocket, and folded his arms around his chest, bitter, as he took a bite of his dessert.

He sighed as he walked away from the store. Already, he was cold, wet, and now his foot was hurting worse than before. "Shit!" he said out loud as he stepped off the curb and straight into another half-frozen puddle. He took a bite of the chocolate and wiped his eye as a tear rolled down his cheek. No one would see him cry as he walked down the dark and empty sidewalk, but, he had just turned 16, and 16 year olds don't cry, unless they were a _maricón_ like his papi sometimes called him.

"Poor kid," rookie Olivia Benson said as she watched the skinny teen walk away into the freezing drizzle and cross the street.

"Poor kid my ass. Trouble maker is more like it."

"I wonder how he got that shiner?"

"God only knows. A fight...a beating from a drug dealer...who knows?"

"I don't know...He looks cold. Maybe we should give him a ride home?"

"Look, I know you're new. If we give every urchin we come across a ride we'd do nothing else. We're not a taxi service," Officer Howell retorted.

Olivia frowned as she climbed into the passenger seat of the patrol car and shut the door. She turned her head as the scrawny kid carried on his way, obviously cold, as he walked in the darkness, hugging himself for warmth. "Well, I feel sorry for him," she said as she buckled her seatbelt and listened to the crackle of the police radio. "He can't be more than 15. Poor kid. It's cold and wet out." She shook her head sadly. "I feel bad for him."

"Let's go," Howell said, turning up the radio as he pulled the cruiser away from the curb. "Benson," he said, glancing at her. "Your feelings will pass."

As the cruiser took off down the street Olivia craned her neck as she caught a glimpse of the teen as he wandered aimlessly down the sidewalk. As the car passed him, Olivia saw him stop and turn around. He looked directly at her before he ducked down a darkened side street. "I hope not," she said softly.


	2. Chapter 2

All Rafael had wanted was to study for his upcoming history exam. Instead, he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, wiping traces of blood from his nose and flinching as his fingers brushed along his swollen lip and cheek, which seemed to darken into a deep shade of red before his eyes. He splashed some water on his face and returned to his room, determined to study before it was time for bed.

The noise from the living room was making it impossible for him to study, but he didn't dare ask his father to turn down the television. Rafael rolled his eyes and tapped his highlighter against his notebook as the sounds of an old Elvis movie blared from the living-room. With the side of his face throbbing and the noise of the television distracting him, he soon lost interest in 11th grade history.

Rafael couldn't bear the thought of spending the night alone with his father, who was descending into an angry, drunken stupor. He flipped his books closed and decided to get out. It didn't matter where, but he knew that just about any place in the world would be better than staying at home.

Standing quietly at the threshold of living room, Rafael cautiously peered around the corner. The senior Barba was ensconced on the couch, sipping on a glass of vodka, thoroughly engrossed in the bright colors of Hawaii that flickered in the background while Elvis sang and danced across the screen. As his father reached to the scuffed coffee table for the half-empty vodka bottle, Rafael held his breath and tiptoed to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"None of your business," Rafael mumbled under his breath as he slipped on his jacket.

"What?"

"I'm going out."

"Good. Don't bother coming back," Barba Sr. shouted. "You stupid little bastard," he added, getting up from the couch and heading to the door.

"Fuck you," Rafael muttered as he bent down to tie his shoes. He let out a gasp as a kick came from out of nowhere landed on his stomach. The force of the blow knocked Rafael over as his father's foot came down on his back. While he gulped for air, a rough hand reached down, grabbed Rafael's arm, and shoved him against the door.

"What did you just say? Did you just swear at your father? Did you just disrespect me? Huh? Did you? Do I have to teach you a lesson? When are you going to learn?"

"Fuck you. I hate you!" Rafael screamed, closing his eyes when an angry backhand connected with his already tender cheek. "I hate you!" A lifetime of pent up rage exploded out of Rafael. He kicked his father in the shin as hard as he could and stared at the man he despised more than anyone. Never before had he stood up to his father in such a way. Rafael had long fantasized about this moment and now that it had actually happened, he stood trembling in disbelief and fear of retribution.

He broke from his father's grasp and reached for the door. His hurried steps turned into a sprint when his father lunged after him. A neighbor cracked open their door to see what the commotion in the hall was and quickly slammed it shut when Rafael ran by. He knew that no one would intervene on his behalf, so he kept going, determined to get away and wishing that would never have to return. He ran down the stairs and out the door, stunned when he realized his father was chasing him.

"Come back here. Don't you dare run from me, you little coward. Get back here. You had better listen to your father!"

Panicked, Rafael looked around and ducked into the narrow gap between his building and the next. He stood against the wall, holding his breath, and closing his eyes as his father ran past his hiding spot, screaming his name.

As soon as his father passed him Rafael sprinted across the street. His feet pounded against the wet pavement and crunched over scattered patches of snow as he zig-zagged across the dimly lit streets and alleys of the South Bronx. His lungs begged for air and he ignored the cramps in his stomach as his legs pumped furiously carrying him as far from home as possible.

In his hurry, Rafael didn't see the patch of ice hidden under a thin layer of snow. His feet flew out from under him and suddenly, he found himself winded and staring up at the train tracks overhead. He lay on the cold, icy pavement, gasping, his head pounding and at that moment, wishing he were dead. Litter whipped up around him and the sidewalk vibrated with the rumble of a passing train. Bitterly, Rafael wondered if his father would miss him, or even care, if he were to throw himself onto the tracks in front of a speeding train.

Rafael slowly picked himself up off of the ground and stood doubled-over, his hands resting on his knees until his breath returned to him. He fished around in his pockets for enough change to use a pay phone and headed across the street to call Eddie, praying that his mother would allow him to come over and maybe spend the night.

* * *

"Hey, isn't that your kid over there?" Officer Howell said, pointing to a small figure on the sidewalk, illuminated by the flickering street lights.

"My kid?" Olivia asked.

"Yeah, the kid you were worried about last week. Isn't that him?"

"I don't know."

"It's him. I can tell."

"How?"

"When you've been around as long as I have, you never forget a thing. I can tell by his jacket, the way he walks, his body language. See?" Howell said, pointing at the teenager as he crossed the street about a half a block ahead of their patrol car. "Just watch him."

"Wow, yeah, it is. I'm impressed."

"Let's pick him up."

"For what?"

"He just jaywalked, right in front of us."

"Come on, you can't be serious. Let's just leave him alone."

"Benson," Howell said with a smile. "Stick with me. I'll show you how we can get through to kids like him."

"I don't want to hassle him. Let's just forget it."

"You don't really think I'm all that heartless do you? There's no point in ticketing him. We'll get him in the car, lecture him about jaywalking and let him go. He'll at least get to warm up a bit. I guess, your kindness has brought out my sweet side," he said, laughing.

Olivia smiled. "So you really are a big softie after all. I thought there was more to you than your gruff exterior."

"Don't tell anyone." Howell drove the car up to the teen and flicked on the lights. "All right son," he said as he climbed out of the car and approached the teen. "Do you know why we stopped you?"

"No," Rafael said, shrugging his shoulders and staring at the ground.

"You just jaywalked. Now, since it's cold outside, come and sit in the back while I write you a ticket, ok?"

Rafael nodded and felt as though he were about to burst into tears. A ticket for jaywalking, on top of everything else was too much for him to bear. When his father finds out, he'd kill him.

Olivia opened the door and watched as Howell walked the boy towards the car and usher him into the back seat. "Howell," she said when the back door closed. "Don't play with him too long. He's terrified."

"I know. I'll be gentle."

Howell and Olivia climbed back into the patrol car and turned to look at the teen in the backseat. They glanced at each other and then back at the boy as he pulled his hood over his head and stared at the floor.

"I'm Officer Howell, and this is Officer Benson. What's your name?"

"Rafael," he whispered.

"Rafael? Last name?"

"Barba."

"How old are you, Rafael?"

"18, umm… 16."

"16?"

"Yeah…16." Rafael raised his eyes and saw smiles that the two cops gave each other.

"Ok, Rafael. I'm not going to give you a ticket, but I want you to realize how dangerous jaywalking can be. It's dark, it's snowing, and you're wearing dark clothes. It would be hard for a car to see you."

Olivia watched Rafael from the rear view mirror as Howell lectured him. Her heart went out to the kid who seemed to be on the verge of tears. Not exactly the tough, trouble making kid that Howell had suspected him to be a week ago.

"It's late and it's cold. Why don't we take you home?" Howell asked.

Rafael shook his head, careful not to expose the bruised side of his face. Home was the very last place he was going, especially after he had dared to fight back against his father. "That's ok. I can just walk."

"We'll give you a ride. Where do you live?"

"Jerome."

"Jerome? You're a long way from there."

Rafael nodded but said nothing as Howell put the car in drive. Olivia turned around and smiled at him. "We just have one quick stop to make. Then we'll get you home," she said, her eyebrows furrowing when he lowered his eyes to avoid her gaze.

Rafael tensed up when Howell stopped the car to let Olivia out. He had heard stories of cops taking kids like him and beating them in dark alleys. Until now, he thought that those stories were just rumors, but now he was afraid of the possibility that those rumors were true. Rafael turned and watched Benson as she walked away. He slid over in the back seat towards the door and looked nervously at Howell.

"Relax. She's just getting a couple of coffees. Then we'll take you home. Hey, are you alright?"

"Yeah."

"Your nose is bleeding." Howell searched the glove box and produced a napkin. "Just hang on." He radioed Benson in the store. "Benson. Can you bring some extra napkins and maybe some wet wipes? The kid has a nose bleed," he said as he searched the front seat for something for Rafael to wipe his nose with and climbed out of the car. He opened the back door and handed Rafael a napkin. "Here. Benson will bring you something to get cleaned up."

"Thanks."

"No problem." Howell stood with the back door open for a moment and studied him. "Are you really 16?"

Rafael nodded and turned away, hiding the side of his face. "Thanks," he said again and held his hand to cover his bruise.

"We'll get you home right away. Your parents must be worried."

"Umm…no. They're not home. I can just walk there. You don't have to drive me."

Howell sat in the front seat and turned back to him. He nodded slowly as Rafael dabbed at his nose. "You have a reason not to be at home?"

"No."

Olivia reappeared with a tray of coffee and set it down in the front seat. She opened the back passenger door and handed Rafael some napkins.

"Here you go. You can call me Olivia. Can I have a look at your nose?" she asked softly, bending down to get a closer look.

"It's ok," he said, shifting away and inching towards the opposite door when she reached out to touch his arm.

"Let's see. Is it ok if I have a look?" She studied the boy in the backseat intently. He appeared to be nearly grown, but he still had the face of a child and the physique of a scrawny teen who hadn't yet filled out. She doubted he was 16, but decided to let him go with his story.

Rafael sighed. He dropped his hand to his lap and closed his eyes when he saw the look on her face as she examined him.

"Benson. It's freezing in here," Howell complained from the front seat.

"Just a minute." She went to the front seat and whispered something to Howell. "I'm just going to slide in beside you. I brought you a hot chocolate," she said when she returned to Rafael. She put the cup down on the floor, handed Rafael a fresh napkin, and closed the door. "Just put the dirty ones in here," she said, handing him a small bag. "And here's some wet wipes." Olivia frowned at the distinctive pattern of a hand across his cheek. "Can you tell me what happened to your face?" she asked softly.

"Just a fight…after school."

"A fight?" She glanced quickly at his knuckles and saw no marks or scrapes on them and doubted his words.

"Yeah."

"It must hurt."

Rafael shook his head and shrugged. "A little. But it's not too bad."

"Do your parents know?"

"No."

"Well, your nose looks better now. I think the bleeding stopped. Here's your hot chocolate. And here, I know you like these," she said, pulling an Oh Henry! bar from her coat pocket. "Just in case you're hungry."

"Oh, thanks."

"That's ok." She patted his hand and smiled when he opened the wrapper and took a bite.

"Can I go? I can walk from here." He raised his eyes hopefully and glanced down again as soon as he saw her looking at him. "I'm fine. Really."

"I don't think that's a good idea." She climbed out of the back seat and met Howell outside. Rafael sat in the back and touched his nose to make sure it hadn't started bleeding again. He took a sip of the hot chocolate, grateful to have something warm in his stomach and watched Olivia and Howell as they talked and looked in his direction.

"We're going to give you a ride home. It's late, it's cold. We have to make sure you get home safely," Howell said when he and Olivia returned to the car.

"Umm…it's ok. I'll be ok walking."

"We don't mind. It's kind of cold to be out walking around. By the time you finish that hot chocolate, you'll be home. Now what's your address?" Olivia asked.

"1265 Jerome." It was Eddie's address. Rafael had no choice but to lie to Olivia. There was no way he was he going to take the police to his home and his drunken father, who would surely humiliate him in front of them and then beat the hell out of him after they left. He hoped that Eddie would answer the door and go along with his story.

Rafael drank the hot chocolate and glanced curiously at Olivia when he thought she wasn't looking. She was too nice to be a cop, he thought as the patrol car drove through the streets towards Jerome Avenue. As soon as Olivia looked into the mirror, Rafael's eyes darted away, the slightest hint of a smile crossing his face.

When the car parked, Rafael wasn't entirely surprised when Olivia and Howell followed him up to the building. "I forgot my keys," he said, pressing the buzzer to Eddie's suite. His heart pounded as he turned back to the door and waited for someone to answer. He felt their eyes on him as he pressed the buzzer again, unsure of what to do if no one answered.

"Hello?"

"Eddie! It's Rafael. I forgot my keys."

"What? Umm…ok, come in."

"Rafael, what happened?" Eddie said, his eyes wide when he saw Rafael's face and the two NYPD officers beside him.

"Just a fight. Thanks," he said to Olivia and Howell. "I'll be ok now."

"Who is this?" Olivia asked.

"My brother."

"He's fine now," Eddie said, standing behind Rafael with his hands on his shoulders.

"Are your parents at home?" Howell asked Eddie.

"They're out," Rafael interjected quickly.

"Ok. You're sure that you're ok now, Rafael?" Olivia asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, have a good night. And no more wandering around so late at night, ok?"

Rafael nodded and watched as Olivia and Howell turned and walked down the hall. "Hey." He shook Eddie's hands off of his shoulders and jogged after them. "I just wanted to say thanks," he said when they turned to him.

"You're very welcome," Howell said.

"You look after yourself, Rafael." Olivia smiled at him and touched his shoulder.

"Thanks." Rafael watched as they made their way down the hall and down the stairs.

* * *

For weeks after, Rafael turned his head and looked every time he saw a police car, hoping to catch a glimpse of the cop who had shown him such kindness. Eventually, he stopped looking for Olivia, and for the longest time, he thought of her and wondered if he would ever see her again.


	3. Chapter 3

Tears of shock moistened Rafael's eyes as he lay flat on his back looking up at the train tracks that glistened from the flicker of the street lights and passing cars.

Alone on the cold sidewalk and in the world, Rafael's abdomen heaved in his struggle to catch his breath. His thoughts turned dark; and he wondered vaguely how long it would take to freeze to death if he were to lay there and fall asleep, surrounded by patches of ice and snow. He would be better off if he were dead, especially now that he had dared to stand up to his father.

The stillness of the dark night was interrupted by the squeal of steel on steel, signaling the coming of a train. It rushed overhead, stirring up a cold blast of air and debris in its wake. Rafael stared up at the sparks the wheels made along the tracks as the train screeched around a curve and sped into the distance. He didn't bother to wipe away the tears rolling down his frozen cheeks while he wondered if getting hit by a train would hurt.

* * *

Rafael bolted upright and shook his head. Frantically, he looked around and realized that he was at home in bed and not lying on an ice and snow covered sidewalk in the Bronx.

A green light from his phone pulsated and illuminated the bedside table. He read the text from Benson, reminding him of their meeting first thing in the morning. He tossed his phone back to the table and curled up, hoping that he could fall asleep quickly.

The harder he tried to relax and fall asleep, the more Rafael tossed restlessly in bed. It was 4:00, too early to get up and too late to take an Ambien. He sighed and cursed for waking up at the same part of his long recurring dream; a nightmare that always ended the same way, with him laying alone, frightened, and shivering on a snow-covered sidewalk, contemplating suicide.

Over the last year and especially since his transfer to the Manhattan DA's office, the dream was occurring with more frequency and intensity. Rafael knew that the dream contained fragments of an event from long ago, a jumbled up moment from his past that he couldn't piece together despite the hours he spent trying to analyze it.

Why he had been lying on a sidewalk, Rafael couldn't remember. He understood the train and its symbolism; in his younger years, he often thought that he'd be better off dead. In a burst of frustration, Rafael slapped his pillow and sighed; he must have been weak to have allowed his father's hands and harsh words affect him so much.

Despite his sensitive nature, he had become a master at disguising his pain, almost to the point where he no longer felt it. Sometimes, there was nothing that anyone could do or say to him that could hurt him. On other occasions, he'd hide his pain until he was in the privacy of his own home.

No one that knew Rafael now would ever guess at how sensitive he actually was. His cutting remarks and sarcasm kept people at bay, and now, at age 40, there was no one that bothered to get close to him, which was exactly the way he liked it.

Just as he began to drift back to sleep, Rafael was again woken by a broken, nonsensical dream where he was afraid of Benson, who was smiling at him and handing him a chocolate bar.

Rafael shook his head, puzzled at the strange dream and settled back into bed. He snuggled against his pillow and closed his eyes, desperate to get another few hours of sleep.

He barely had the chance to fall asleep when his eyes flew open and he sat up in disbelief as bits and pieces of his dream and strange memories melded together to produce an odd vision of him sitting in the back of a police car, terrified, while Benson opened the back door and reached out to touch his face.

Rafael lay down and shut his eyes, forcing himself to concentrate upon that split second of a disjointed memory. Slowly, more memories flashed in his mind, each one leading to and unraveling another, until finally, a clear picture of the night began to unfold.

* * *

Rafael sat at a small table for two at the café and played with his phone, browsing the internet for the local news while he waited for Olivia to arrive. Nerves were starting to get the better of him and he debated with himself on whether or not he should even bring up the night they first met to Olivia.

It was clear that she didn't remember. Rafael knew that she must have dealt with dozens, or even hundreds of wayward youth like him throughout her career. What had ended up being a significant night to him was probably a night like any other to her.

If he did manage to find the nerve to bring it up, he wasn't sure how much he would reveal to her; he knew that he didn't want to open himself up enough to be viewed as vulnerable.

"Sorry I'm late. Things got crazy." Olivia pulled out a chair and sat across from Rafael. She shrugged off her jacket and glanced at him. "So, what's so important to drag you all the way here on your day off?"

"Ah, well nothing too important. I was in the neighborhood. Just some errands to run. But, how are you?" he asked, licking his lips and deciding, right then and there, that he would tell Olivia about the first time they met.

"Good. You know, busy. So, Barba, there's got to be something on your mind?"

"Well, actually yeah. Do you have a few minutes?"

"Sure."

"Can I ask you something? It might sound strange at first, but hear me out?"

"Of course. Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, fine. But, something came up and I have to ask you something."

"Ok…sure. Anything."

"You've been with the police for what? 24, 25 years?"

"Yeah, about that…Jeez, now I feel old." Olivia laughed and stirred her coffee.

"You worked in the Bronx, right?"

"Yeah, I did. My first precinct. Why?"

"What was your partner like?"

"Oh god, let me think…tall, built, not bad looking…What's with the questions?"

"Do you remember any of the kids you picked up?"

"Picked up?"

"Yeah, arrested...picked up. You know what I mean."

"I don't know…there were so many. I was a cop on the beat in those days, there were so many kids in trouble. High-risk kids, youth in gangs, troubled kids…the usual."

"But, just think about it. Think back to when you were new and on patrol in the Bronx."

"Rafael, there would have been hundreds. A kid we picked up? I don't think I remember one specifically."

Rafael smiled and reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out an Oh Henry! bar and slid it across the table. "Does this mean anything to you?"

"What? A chocolate bar? I don't know…it's a chocolate bar?"

"Just think about it. Think about it and about back when you were new to the force. Try and remember a kid that you and your old partner picked up one night back when you were on patrol in the Bronx."

Olivia looked at the chocolate bar on the table and back up at Rafael. "I'm sorry…I don't know what you're getting at. You'll have to give me a hint."

"Ok, do you remember a kid, about 16 that you found wandering around a couple of times? It was cold, and you bought him a chocolate bar?"

Olivia furrowed her brow and closed her eyes. "I'm not sure." A flash of a boy's face came to her. She squeezed her eyes tighter and forced the memory to stay. It was a fleeting vision, but she focused on it until suddenly the image of the boy became more concrete. "His body language," she recalled her partner, Howell, saying at the time.

Olivia shook her head as she fixated intently on the boy's face. _He couldn't maintain eye contact….he seemed scared and cold. He was afraid when she had reached out to touch his face_ , she remembered. _There was something wrong with him; he had been assaulted and had bruises on his face. He had a bleeding nose and frightened eyes_. "I think I do…he was hurt, he had been beaten up. He had bruises on his face." Olivia touched the side of her face. "I think we gave him a ride. And, yes. I think I gave him a chocolate bar, he seemed cold...and hungry." She opened her eyes and stared at Rafael. Her hand covered her mouth in shock. "Oh my god," she breathed. "It was you."

Rafael nodded and smiled. "Yeah…it was."

"Oh my god," she said. She pushed her chair back, walked around the table, and pulled Rafael out of his seat. She put her arms around him and held his head to her shoulder. "I used to wonder about what ever happened to him…I used to think about him and hope that he would be ok. I remember now. I worried about him. I can't believe it. After all these years. I can't believe it's you." She let go of him and wiped a tear from her eye. She stood shaking her head and staring in amazement at his eyes, the same huge, green eyes that she had tried to look into so many years ago. "How did you ever remember that? When did you realize this?" she asked, gently wiping away a tear that rolled down his cheek and pulling him in for another hug.

"It's a long story. A really long story," Rafael said, rubbing away another tear with the back of his hand.

"Well, why don't you start now? If we run out of time, we can meet up for dinner after my shift?"

"That sounds great…but I guarantee you, we'll have to meet for dinner. Like I said, it's a long, convoluted story."


End file.
